Painters
by Aby'n'Marc
Summary: Song Fic to Jewel's "Painters" Its 1965 and Sara is 80 years old. Emma sings her song and Sara remembers her past with the infamous Spot Conlon of Brooklyn.


Disclaimer-Disney owns Newsies, Jewel owns the song. Its called Painters.  
  
"Nana?" Her great-granddaughter ran up the stairs carrying her guitar, her curly hair bouncing around her peasant-top clad torso. "I wrote a song about you and...Kyle."  
Sara looked up from the picture she always carried around. An old newspaper article, with a picture of about 45 newsboys above it. "Did you now, Emma? Let's hear it."  
Sara closed her eyes as Emma tuned the guitar. The year was 1965 and Sara was now eighty years old. The clouds rolling over her head reminded her of that day. So clear it was on the Brooklyn bridge...  
  
"Sara I got ya somethin'," Spot had whispered in her ear. She giggled.  
"Did you now? Well, where is it?"  
"Back at da lodgin house. C'mon."  
He had dragged her across the bridge into the house and up the stairs to his room. A canvas and set of paints stood in the center of the floor. "Oh Spot! I love it! I have to paint your picture now!"  
He had smiled, and complied with her wishes. After that first painting, she painted him all the time. Sometimes only his eyes or smile...  
  
"Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch Watching the clouds roll by They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago, When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait A thousand times - or maybe just his smile - And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go 'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves A lovely world."  
  
The song strummed out of Emma's lips and lulled Sara deeper into her past.  
  
It was three years later. She sat in the living room of her and Spot, now Kyle's house. Kyle Conlon had left the newsies a year before because Sara was pregnant. A beautiful baby boy, Nicholas, now sat in her lap. Painting of the baby and flowers...and the walls.  
Kyle walked in and handed her the roses. "Oh Kyle!" She whispered. "They are beautiful..."  
"I want to give ya everything as beautiful as you. Even da sunset."  
  
"Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall He put water colored roses in her hair He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine, the sunset too I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me 'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves A lovely world."  
  
So she had painted their love in every way she saw possible. She painted Nikki's squealing laughter and blue eyes, their home, and his smile. Sometimes she would try to paint Nikki to realize she had dressed him in blue...blue was to sad...so she made it yellow. It was absolute perfection for the longest time on their tiny orchard farm.  
  
"So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child in the winter they were weavers of warmth, in the summer they were carpenters of love They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow 'Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves A lovely world."  
  
Emma stopped momentarily, stunned by her Nana's reaction. "Nana?"  
"Go on child." So Emma kept singing and Sara went back to that fatal day.  
  
It was pouring rain like sheets and Nikki was crying. That was her first clue to knowing something was indeed wrong. Nikki never cried. Lighting struck and a portrait of the family fell off the mantel. "Don't take him from me!" Sara screamed as she tore out into the rain. She ran fast through the orchards, screaming his name. "Kyle! Spot! Answer me dammit!" Then she found him, watered colored roses in his hands. She glared at them and threw them behind her. "God damn it Spot Conlon you weren't supposed to die this way! You can't leave me! Not with only these icey pictures of you left behind!"  
  
"Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil And in her heart she knew something was wrong She went running through the orchard screaming, 'No God, don't take him from me!' But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her She threw them down screaming, 'Damn you man, don't leave me with nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits to remind me!'"  
  
"I ain't leavin' Sara...those paintin' a' your's...dey'se real. Ya keep 'em. I love ya an' I'm sorry...but I really leavin'. I'll always be heah. In Nicholas and," He touched a hand to her swelling stomach. "Da new baby...your heart too, has me in it."  
She looked away. "What happened?" She whispered, looking around. Nothing? What was wrong? He was just giving up?!  
"I'm sick, babe. I always have been. My muddah died of it too."  
And so he left. She cried for days, years even. Especially when Samantha was born. A baby never to know her father.  
It often crossed her mind that he was really there...laughing while Racetrack swung Nikki around...or frowning when Sam called Ace her Daddy. He was there and that was why Sara didn't date. She didn't want anyone else.  
  
"He said, 'Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still My body may die now, but these paintings are real' So many seasons came and so many seasons went and many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers, talking to the trees and singing to his children, And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening, and how he seemed to laugh along, an how he seemed to hold her when she was crying. 'Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves A lovely world."  
  
Sara felt tears rolling down her old cheeks. "He loved me Emma dear...and he loved your grandfather also. Though Nicholas was to young to know at the time."  
Emma looked up but kept singing. She hoped it would break easily when she told her Nana. She was getting married. To a boy by the name of Frankie Higgens. Racetrack's own flesh and blood.  
The clouds...the day on the bridge, a different day. A fight.  
  
"Have you been cheating on me?!" She had accused.  
Spot's eyes had gone wide. "NO!"  
"You had better not have been..." She almost continued but Spot was on his knees.  
"Sara, will ya marry me?"  
Her heart skipped. "I have to tell you something first. I'm pregnant. Do you still want me."  
"Well, it is me baby. So yeah I want ya. In fact I want ya even more."  
So they got married.  
  
"Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch Watching the clouds roll by They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago, When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait A thousand times - or maybe just his smile - And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go Yes, she and her canvas still follow Because they are painters and they are painting themselves A lovely world."  
  
"Nana? I'm finished. Did you like it?" Emma asked timidly. "Nana? I'm getting married to Frankie Higgens..."  
Sara never answered that. She never took another breath because she had joined her lover in a different place. A lovely world they had painted together so long ago.  
  
"It sure took ya long enough baby doll," Spot whispered as she stepped into the light. She was young again. A sprite fifteen year old girl as he was still a boy.  
"I had to raise our children. Nicholas and Samantha."  
"Yeah? I watched. Ya did good."  
She stared at him for a moment. "Its really you. Oh God I missed you so much!" She threw her arms around his neck.  
  
"Nana? NANA!" 


End file.
